Snowfall
by pensandink
Summary: It was the first snowfall of the year, and lots of things happen without us meaning to. -OR- the one where Annabeth and Percy love and hate snow over the years. [AU] [Oneshot] [T]


_Disclaimer – I don't own PJO._

* * *

><p><em>It was the first snowfall of the year.<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 5<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy loved the snow. <em>

While it wasn't the same as that community pool down the road, even his kindergarten-aged mind could grasp the concept of the water cycle and the three forms of water.

He'd go down to the park and make little snowmen, pretending they were alive and his friends. Then he'd run back to Sally, announce his achievement ("I made a snowman that looks just like you, Mommy!") and tug his real, slightly cold and numb mother to his slightly sloppy creation of a snow-mother.

Sally must admit that it looked nothing like her.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth hated the snow.<em>

She'd always hated being cold, preferring the warm sunniness of their old home, California. She'd constantly pester Fredrick – why did we have to leave? Where's my mommy? Is this snow? I don't like it. It's too cold. Can we go home?

Frederick would sigh and answer patiently. Daddy needs to work. Mommy isn't here. This _is_ snow. We can go home, sweetie, if you want to.

She always wanted to.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 7<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy loved the snow.<em>

He was still a little kid, Sally reasoned. Every kid loves snow.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth hated the snow.<em>

She was still a little kid, Frederick mused. She'll learn to love it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 9<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy loved the snow.<em>

He'd gotten over the snowman phase – he was way happier sledding now, and besides, he could build a snow slide all by himself. Sally would help him sometimes, and Percy's shrieks of delight could be heard throughout the park.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth tolerated the snow.<em>

She'd gotten old enough to realize that snow was part of the winter routine. Just like Christmas, snow was inevitable and highly unavoidable, just like awkward family meals with Dad and Stepmother.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 11<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy tolerated the snow.<em>

It was annoying when he had to walk to school in his relatively thin snow jacket and worn-down rubber boots. He constantly kept slipping, sometimes wishing for new shoes but knowing that Smelly Gabe kept gambling all their money away.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth liked the snow.<em>

It'd make her breath steam up in puffy columns. She liked how each little flake was its own, completely different from all the others, just like all of the people around her. However, it was still too cold.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 13<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy hated the snow.<em>

He kept slipping – both literally and figuratively. During the winter months, his grades would drop, because although Gabe was gone and Christmas was coming, he never got as many gifts as his friends.

He'd accepted it by now.

Also, his dyslexia acted up worst in winter, as if some unknown deity was mocking him – _oh, you want more gifts? Have some dyslexia!_ – which just made everything worse.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth loved the snow.<em>

Snow meant she could bundle up with her favorite scarf and winter hat. Snow meant she could bury herself underneath her plush comforter and sleep 'till noon. Snow meant a lot of things, and Annabeth loved every single one of those things.

Although it was still bitterly cold, Annabeth loved forging her way through the snow, getting the little white crystals all over her mittens.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 15<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy tolerated the snow.<em>

Although at least a foot of it meant a day off, it also meant a lot of work – whatever jobs he could find shoveling snow out of driveways. Plus, nobody ever thanked him for it.

He'd come home, his back all sore, and his mother would be looking out the window. Her eyes, saddened from the years and too-early Empty Nest Syndrome, were much too old for her barely-there gray hairs.

He was almost taller than her now.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth tolerated the snow.<em>

Last week, she'd slipped and fallen on some ice and broke her wrist. It hurt a lot, and Annabeth didn't know how she would handle typing up all those reports on 'what was your best winter experience' and crap.

The snow was super pretty, but she couldn't read outside because her books would get all wet and all she had to dry it was a hair dryer. Normally she'd use the clothesline, hanging the book over the rope to dry, but it was still snowing.

Also, her favorite scarf got chewed on by the cat.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 17<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy hated the snow.<em>

Snow meant cold. Snow meant more schoolwork. Snow meant no gifts save for extra blue pancakes and waffles. Snow meant a lot of things, and Percy hated them all.

He was getting better at the dyslexia, though.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth hated the snow<em>.

Snow meant 'family time,' which equated to clinking forks and awkward silences, nothing like the familial auras she'd heard so much about in her books.

She'd been diagnosed with severe ADHD, too.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 19<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Percy loved the snow.<em>

Why the sudden change? Well, it went like this.

Percy was just walking through the park, bundled up in a slightly less shabby winter coat since Sally married a guy named Mr. Blofis, who was also his English teacher.

His hands were numb, and he'd shoved them down into his pockets to keep them warm. He looked at the ground, trying to avoid the slippery ice patches.

Of course, he slipped anyways.

He slid, yelping "Gah!" and ran straight into somebody's legs.

The girl – which was as much as Percy could tell – fell on top of him.

For a second they were silent, until an old man grumpily said "Teenagers."

Then they burst out laughing.

The girl rolled off Percy's chest and stood up, brushing snow from her sweater. "Sorry about that," Percy said. "Didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well," the girl said. "Lots of things happen without us meaning to."

They look at each other, her gray eyes meeting and clashing with his green, daring and challenging him to say something back.

"So," Percy said intelligently. He'd never been the best around pretty girls, and this stranger was definitely a pretty girl. "Who may I have the pleasure of knocking over?"

"My name's Annabeth. I'm nineteen."

Percy beams internally. "My name's Percy. I'm nineteen, too!" He practically skips around her.

"You're like a little kid," she says, shaking her head, although she's smiling.

"Shall we exchange numbers?" Percy says, ignoring her, because it's _perfectly acceptable_ to ask for the number of a perfect stranger.

"Sure," she says gamely. They exchange phones after unlocking them, entering each other's contact info and taking selfies for the ID photo.

And after that –

Well, one thing led to another.

* * *

><p><em>Annabeth loved the snow.<em>

She'd been looking up at the sky, watching the little flakes drift down. It was interesting how the snowflakes, white as they were, looked dark against the grayish puffiness of the sky.

Something hit her legs and she almost cries out, falling on something very much _alive_.

It's a boy.

He's maybe her age, with a mess of black hair. His cheeks are tinted pink with cold, and long, dark lashes frame sea-green eyes. Annabeth wants to lay there forever, innuendoes be damned, but an old man grumps, "Teenagers."

With that, Annabeth rolls off the pretty stranger, standing up and dusting the snow crystals off her new gray sweater. They're both laughing. The stranger says, "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well," she says. "Lots of things happen without us meaning to."

They lock eyes. His eyes bore into hers.

Then his face lights up and he says, "Who may I have the pleasure of knocking over?"

It's so childish, Annabeth suppresses giggles. Giggles? Where did those come from?

Besides, he used _may_ instead of _can_. Granted, the context made _may_ seem more appropriate, but all of the guys who hit on her in senior year never used _may_. Which is most of the reason she turned them down.

"My name's Annabeth," she finds herself saying, although she doesn't know why. "I'm nineteen."

"My name's Percy," the strange boy says, smiling like an idiot. "I'm nineteen, too!"

He prances around her, throwing snow in the air. Annabeth shakes her head fondly. "You're like a little kid."

"Shall we exchange numbers?" he suggests.

_STRANGER DANGER, _a voice in her head screams. _He could be an axe murderer!_

_Yeah, right_, she says back. _Because an axe murderer would use 'may' and 'shall.'_

The voice in her head shuts up.

"Sure," she says.

Percy's phone is in a black-and-green case. She types in her contact information, including her address, and snaps a selfie of her laughing at Percy's texting face.

That's how Annabeth came to love snow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Age 20<strong>_

* * *

><p>"So, when's the marriage?" Sally asks Annabeth, a gleam in her eye.<p>

"Sally!" she exclaims, batting at air, as she can never bring herself to punch her surrogate mother on the arm lightly.

"Hey, Wise Girl," Percy says, hugging her from behind and kissing her ear.

Paul's voice. "Sweetie? The sausage is burning! I don't know how to fix it!"

Sally rolls her eyes. "Oh, Paul," she murmurs, shaking her head. She heads towards the kitchen, pauses, and turns around. "Keep it down, lovebirds," she says good-humoredly.

"Oh, we will," Annabeth promises. "Won't we, Percy?" she asks, a light threat in her voice.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed against her neck.

Sally's staring past them, a light smile gracing her face. "Would you look at that," she says softly.

* * *

><p><em>It was the first snowfall of the year.<em>


End file.
